


You Can't Hurry Love

by agoodtuckering



Series: The Romance of Windsor Gardens [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Paddington (Movies), Paddington Bear - Michael Bond
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodtuckering/pseuds/agoodtuckering
Summary: Clara's more than content with Ronald and happy to be with him, but there are still a few things missing. She's determined to help him relax.
Relationships: Mr. Curry (Paddington)/Clara Oswin Oswald
Series: The Romance of Windsor Gardens [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570750
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	You Can't Hurry Love

They began to go on dates frequently. After Christmas, everything changed. After talking to her nan, she realized what she really wanted in life: someone gentle like _him._ It wasn’t only something that she _wanted,_ but something she _needed_ in her life. And he needed her just as much, she discovered. 

For months, they shared little kisses and spent evenings in cooking at home or going out to little local restaurants and learning about different cuisines. It was fun. There was no pressure, and no one to judge them for it. It was comfortable, relaxing. They even began to spend nights together. Mostly, it was him over her place. He hated his flat, truth be told, and he couldn’t wait to either redecorate with _his own style of furniture and not his mam’s,_ or be done with it and move. Clara was _very much_ against the latter, of course. So, in the end, they spent most of their shared time in her home. He even left a few outfits over at her place. 

Ronald never asked for more than a few kisses. He was the perfect gentleman. Anything and everything she could have ever asked for. She even nicked a few of those jumpers of his to wear at home, whenever they were apart. He’d come home to her place a few times and caught her wearing his old jumpers, or a button down once. He’d even caught her in a long-sleeved shirt of his once, without anything else on. He’d blushed beet red at the sight. 

It was _wonderful._ And sod anyone for ever making any derisive remarks about his age. Ageism had no place in society. She was perfectly willing to tear off anyone’s head for so much as looking at them _oddly_ when they were out in public together.

They came close to making love a few times. It was in the air, _she could tell._ But every single time he pulled away. The kisses ceased and excuses were made. He was more than a little nervous and she was entirely understanding about it. He probably felt self-conscious about his body, although he didn’t have a single reason, in her mind, to feel that way.

One night, though, on her _birthday,_ they snuggled up on the sofa together after a wonderful meal together. He’d made them slow cooker lamb meatballs on top of homemade pasta. It was something nice for her to come home to after a long day of teaching and wrangling students at Coal Hill Academy. 

“You’re so warm,” he said with a laugh as she nuzzled in with a blanket thrown over her shoulders. They were both cozy in their pajamas, silk and cotton, and the telly was on low. She laughed, leaning up for a kiss. “You aren’t really complaining, are you?” she asked, her nose brushing his. 

“No, I’m not,” he replied playfully, nose scrunching up in that way she adored.

She let a hand stroke his chest in a way that practically had him purring in contentment. It was funny how, the closer they became, the more she fell for him. All the little things, like the way he’d cook dinner for her to have something to come home to after school, or the way he’d pick flowers to leave on her kitchen table for her. Or those little content noises he made for her. 

He’d grown closer to her father again, too. They went out for drinks together sometimes. If her father knew about _them,_ she had no idea, but she sort of hoped that her dad would approve. He was a good man for her, regardless of their differences. 

“I want to try something,” she said softly, almost nervously. Her tone caught his attention. A brow arched curiously and he asked, “Yeah?” 

Wordlessly, he reached up for him and kissed him softly. “I know the perfect end to a perfect birthday,” she murmured against his lips. His eyebrows rose in surprise but he continued to kiss her. Just soft, sweet kisses. 

She surprised him then, shifting and slinking right into his lap. 

“Clara?” he asked, a bit surprised and more than a little nervous. She hushed him gently, soothing his nerves and kissing away the worries. “It’s okay,” she told him. “Just kiss me.”

All she wanted was to be close to him. It wasn’t about the sex, per se. It was about that feeling of being close to another person. That feeling of intimacy, of being wanted and wanting another in return. She wanted to experience that with him.

He swallowed anything he could have possibly said in response, simply kissing her. Anything else would have died on his lips, anyway. She began to rock her body against his and he was left gasping against her jaw as he drew away. Shuddering, nervous breaths were falling from his lips in winded little puffs. He began kissing her jawline, all along her neck. 

“Clara,” he breathed softly against her skin. She smelled so wonderfully. Like expensive bodywash, something with vanilla, and a little bit of wine from dinner. Her perfume was light, intoxicating, and he found himself falling in love with it all over again. 

The way he said her name left her breathless. Her hands, perhaps trembling, moved to his hair and she murmured, “All I want is to be close with you tonight. That isn’t so bad, is it?”

A soft moan fell from his lips as she pressed her body down into his. Her hands felt so amazing in his hair, gently tugging and brushing through his curls. “No,” he confessed. “That’s not so bad at all.” He kissed her again without another thought. 

There came a knock at the door just then. 

He groaned quietly, mumbling, “Don’t answer the door. Whoever it is will eventually go away. If it was someone important, they’d have phoned you, don't you think?” 

At first, she _didn’t_ stop. She didn’t want to, but there came another ring at the bell and she slowly moved away, as much as she didn’t want to.

“Please don’t,” he begged her. She kissed him softly, apologizing in her own way, and murmured, “What if it’s important?” _And really, who could it be?_

She fixed her clothes, wandering over towards the door and peeping through the hole. She tugged her hooded jumper closer, keeping herself warm in the cool foyer. With a sigh, she pulled the door open. “Danny,” she said unhappily. “What are you doing here?” 

He was standing in the doorway with a bit of a hopeless look on his face. “It’s your birthday,” he said, as if it was as obvious as could be. “I thought I’d come by and say hello. It’s been a while since everything and you know… I just… I want to make things right between us.”

She said dumbly, “It’s been like six months. You can’t just come round whenever you want.”

He looked a bit wounded for a moment. “But it’s your _birthday,_ Clara. I can’t stop thinking about you. Can I come in, please? Let’s just talk about this.”

By now, Ronald had come to his senses. He sat up and reached for his robe. Shrugging into it, he wondered if he should go and meet Clara at the door. Would that make things better, though, he wondered? Or perhaps worse? 

“I’m happy we’re still friends,” Clara said. “But that’s all that we are, Danny. I’m sorry.” 

Ronald made up his mind. Coming over, he placed a hand at Clara’s back and asked, “Is everything alright?” He missed the look Danny gave him. He was far too busy looking down at Clara to make sure she was alright. 

“Who’s this?” Danny asked, affronted. 

Clara practically puffed up. Not embarrassed, no. More like protective over Ronald. 

“This is Ronald,” she explained. “My _boyfriend._ So now you see why things can’t go back to the way they were with us, Danny.” 

Danny practically laughed. “Your _boyfriend?_ Really? _Him?”_

Clara’s eyes narrowed at that. She breathed a wee sigh and replied, “Yes, Danny. I’m very happy with him. He lives next door. So I’ll see you later, then, shall I? At _school,_ actually. Goodnight, Danny.”

By the time it was over, whatever mood had been in the air earlier had dissipated. It evaporated, almost. Clara sensed his unease, his awkward mood, and he noticed her tired eyes. “Let’s go to bed,” he’d said, mercifully. She only wanted to sleep now, tucked up close in his arms and listening to the drizzling rain outside.

Why did it all have to be so complicated? Danny would probably tell _everyone_ now, she thought. And you know what? That was perfectly fine with her. She was _happy_ with Ronald, and she certainly wasn’t ashamed. He was wonderful and sweet and kind. She couldn’t care less what everyone else thought of them. 

A few days later she caught him at the end of his shift at the bookstore. He was just checking someone out at the register. Smiling softly, she stood by the door for a moment and watched him. He had the dorkiest laugh and she adored it.

Afterward, once he was finished, she came over. “Hello,” she said, smiling softly. Her little dimple made an appearance and he returned the grin. 

“Hi, love,” he replied, closing up the shop for the night. Just like that, too, as she leaned against the counter, he thought she’d never looked so much like her mother before. It was the way she crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to one side whilst watching him. It was her dimples. It was her smile and her warm, kind eyes. Everything about her constantly reminded him of her mam.

“A friend of mine, Dana, called me. She wants some help moving furniture into her new flat. She and her girlfriend finally found someplace perfect. You up for that tonight, moving furniture and boxes? If not, it’s okay. I’ll see you when I get home.”

He was just slipping into his coat and he sent a rather soft look her way. “Of course,” he told her. “I don’t mind helping at all. Need a big, strong man to help, do you?”

Clara only rolled her eyes affectionately, taking him by the arm as they left. “Oh, please,” she teased. “If I blow on you, you’ll go falling over. A strong gust of wind could take you out. That’s why I’m always feeding you second helpings whenever I’m with you.

He coughed to hide a laugh. “I’m not _that_ skinny, am I? I’ve always been like this.” 

A raise of her brows told him all that he needed to know. “You are, though,” she said playfully. And off they went to help her dear friend move into her new place. Dana rather thought he was sweet, too. She liked seeing Clara so happy. 

It _finally_ happened one night when they were watching a movie, staying in, and enjoying the sound of rain pitter-pattering down on the windows. They’d been _together,_ she’d say, for almost seven months. His flat was quiet tonight. Quiet and peaceful.

They’d spent the evening out and about, running errands and accidentally bumping into the Browns and the small bear, whom Clara had come to know was named Paddington. It had been an interesting evening, to say the least.

She crawled towards him on her hands and knees and he went wide-eyed, struck silent and still for a moment, before his brain began to operate correctly again. He backed up against the sofa cushions and asked, “Clara, what are you doing?” 

She laughed and pounced playfully, sending him falling backwards and pillows flying everywhere. When she was sprawled out on top of him, her hands landed gently on his chest and she kissed him breathless. 

When her lips parted for his, his arms went flailing. He was — well, _stunned._ She wanted something more than innocent, sweet cuddles tonight. He felt it. He understood that much. And suddenly it sunk in, that this beautiful young woman was here, in his arms, and she wanted _him._ Him, of all people. _Why him?_

“Mmmph. Clara?” 

She drew back with a soft gasp, fighting to catch her breath for a moment. His fingers brushed stray tendrils of hair from her eyes and cheek, tucking them behind her ears. It was so tender, she could weep. 

“Yes? Are you okay?” she asked, her hand brushing the front of his shirt sweetly. There was adoration there in her eyes. He was taken aback by it, even now. 

“Yes,” he practically squeaked out. “I'm all right. I think.” Then, a moment later, he added, “What are you doing right now, Clara? I’m…” 

Her fingers slipped higher up his chest, slowly beginning to pop open each button at the front of his shirt. She was gentle and meticulous about it. “What does it look like I’m doing, Ronald?” she asked, a brow arching. He was a rabbit caught in the headlights, too shocked to really say or do anything. 

Eventually, Clara continued. “Ronald, it's okay. You can touch me. I want you to. You don’t have to handle me like I’m glass and I’m going to break at any moment. Don’t you want me too?” She pushed aside the unbuttoned sides of his shirt, smiling softly at how thin he was. She could feed him nothing but carbohydrates and calories every single day and he’d still be just as thin. It looked _good_ on him, though. His skin was so soft, so warm, and she relished the frantic beat of his heart beneath her palm for a moment before kissing his sternum tenderly.

It surprised her, when his hands began to trail up her thighs and land at her waist. She hadn't expected him to respond. She’d expected nervousness and a bit more flailing than this. He was _almost_ confidently holding her now.

Her head dipped, lips brushing his throat. She felt him arch his neck back for her, immediately giving her permission and allowing her more room to lay more kisses down. 

“Can I ask you a question?” she murmured against his warm skin, causing his Adam's apple to bob. He merely nodded in response, so she continued. “I'm only curious. I don't mean to pry. You know I'm not like that. But… how long has it been for you? Since you last… had someone?”

His cheeks were flaming bright red and hot. In a bit of a hoarse voice, he responded, “A long time.” She sent a faux stern look his way. Nervously, he elaborated, “About… thirty years.” The embarrassment was clear in his tone.

Her heart melted for a moment. She sighed softly and turned his face up towards hers again. “Look at me,” she said gently. And so he did, obediently. “You don't have anything to feel badly about. I'm just sorry it's been so long for you.”

She kissed him long and slow, letting her tongue part his lips and explore his mouth. There came no resistance from him, not this time. He moaned, much to her surprise and pleasure, and she wound her fingers through and through his magnificent curls. Did he even know how much she loved his hair? _Probably not._

“I have to say something,” he gasped out the very moment she drew back for breath. “I'm not very good at this.” He was fumbling with his words and she noticed. He was flustered. 

“I beg to differ,” she fired back breathlessly. “You're a phenomenal kisser. At least, I think so. Who else even matters?”

His hands traveled beneath her top to brush the warm skin of her lower back, his eyes gone wide with shock again. “I don't mean kissing,” he forced out. “I mean sex. This. Making love. Whatever you want to call it.”

She nuzzled at his jaw affectionately. “Let me be the judge of that,” she whispered warmly, sweetly, and cupped the back of his head with a tender hand. Without warning, she gave his neck a wee bite.

He sucked in a quick, hot breath and felt dizzy for a moment. He should be honest, shouldn't he? He began, “It's been thirty years, give or take a few, for a reason, Clara. I'm rubbish in bed. Women hated bringing me home. So I just stopped. I stopped doing this. Being lonely is better than disappointing anyone.”

Her hands were busy exploring his belly. When he felt them drop to his belt, however, his breath stopped coming. His head was swimming and his eyes wandered lower to her lips. 

Her words surprised him, though. “Every one of those women were terrible. How dare they,” she said calmly, although anger bristled her tone. “You didn't deserve that. You deserved better. _Much_ better. Either way, I'm here now… I'm yours, and I want you. Let me have you.”

That was the last barrier. The last wall. He felt like a wave, crashing into her. His lips met hers with passion, relief, and joy. It felt so freeing.

Her hips pressed against his, seeking his warmth and his body. Seeking his touch. She just needed _him._ She wanted to feel something tonight, but only with him. Ever since they’d grown close, he was the only one she wanted. 

_“Make love to me, Ronald,”_ she whispered so softly that he wasn't even sure he’d heard her right. But, he did exactly as he was told. They made love right there on his sofa, in his living room. The pleasure was unbearable, it was so wonderful. He fell to pieces in her arms, and she in his. 

They spent the entire night together, entwined in one another's arms afterward and sprawled out across his soft, leather sofa. She’d never been so content. And if there was one thing that they both learned, it was that everyone was good at making love as long as it was with the right person. _He wasn’t disappointing at all._ Love was funny that way. 

Sighing softly, sleepy now, Clara murmured, “We should tell my dad we’re together.” 

That surprised him. He cast a glance down towards her, his hand tenderly caressing her bare shoulder and keeping her close. She was always so warm and he loved it. “Not your nan too?”

Clara had the grace to blush a little bit. “She already knows,” she confessed softly. “In fact,” she soldiered on, “I told her on Christmas. She likes you a lot. She likes how sweet you are.” 

He made a soft, thoughtful little sound. “I’m glad I have her approval. Let’s tell your dad tomorrow. Dave won’t be angry. Everyone else already knows, I feel like. He’s a good friend of mine and… at least… if he glasses me, I’ll know we’ll make up later on.” 

Clara laughed softly, snuggling in further and closing her eyes. “Alright,” she sleepily replied. Before she fell asleep, he thought he even heard a soft _I love you_ tumble from her lips, but he couldn’t be sure. It made his heart skip a few beats. 

She was the one, he knew. The one he’d been waiting all his life for. Now he just had to live up to the idea she had of him. He could be a kinder man. He wasn’t as grumpy as he’d been in years past. He was happier now, a _better_ man. The thought alone _touched_ him deeply inside. 

_Everyone deserved a chance at love._

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys enjoyed this series. I loved writing it.


End file.
